Garak and Bashir Stories
by summerartist
Summary: This is a collection of tales about the tailor and the doctor of DS9. Seventh story: Aftermath of the episode "Crossover"
1. Carving Tools and Truth

A/N: Any fic warnings in future stories will be listed at the beginning of each story. These are mostly experimental snippets that vary in length and genre. They'll be updated only sporadically. (Also, sorry for the binaristic language. The O'Briens use a lot of it in the show and it's difficult to edit it out without sounding too ooc. I'm still trying to learn, so please have patience.)

Summary: Chief O'Brien swore that he would never invite Garak over to dinner, but everyone breaks a promise now and then. Meanwhile, Julian discovers how ruthless Cardassians can be towards their own kind.

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><p>Molly O'Brien had been perusing some of her old books when she promptly announced that she would like to carve a pumpkin. She had gone to Keiko, showing her a bright colorful sketch in her book. Keiko had been baffled at first until she realized that Molly had received a book from her father. It depicted little children dressed in costumes of witches and ghosts for Halloween who carved pumpkins and went trick-or-treating.<p>

"Can we go trick-or-treating?"

Keiko smiled apologetically. "I don't think we can, sweetie, but we could carve a pumpkin."

Molly's face lit up with excitement and she hopped up and down.

"But we need to wait until daddy's home. He can teach you how to carve one."

Hopefully, Miles would have an idea of what Molly could use to carve the pumpkin with. She was still far too young to use a knife.

Molly was growing up quickly and she was learning at a rapid pace. Keiko was supportive of her daughter learning about all different cultural practices and the traditions that came with them. Something that was celebrated as a children's holiday was welcome, though Keiko was unsure why gutting an orange gourd enhanced the experience. She only liked to use it as a baked delicacy, but she knew that there was a sacredness to the act of creating and burning lanterns.

That afternoon they replicated two pumpkins and left them out on the coffee table to await Miles's expertise to dismantle them with his daughter. Molly drew and played with her stuffed animals until her father returned.

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><p>"Ow!"<p>

"Sorry if I've hurt you, but I wish that you would hold still for a moment. You seem to fidget constantly."

"Well, my friend is keen on poking needles into uncomfortable places-ow! You did that one on purpose."

"My dear doctor, what a vivid imagination you have to think that I would purposefully be sticking you with pins."

"Do you usually use this many? None of your other customers come to me with injuries. I'm starting to think that I might be your special victim."

"Turn around," Garak ordered him and Bashir turned obediently until he had his back to Garak.

"One would think that there would be a better substitute for pins in your tailoring business. They've been used for thousands of years. There should be a way of avoiding accidents like jabbing people."

"Oh, there have been inventions," Garak said absently. "But the most celebrated of my trade prefer the old ways."

The Cardassian smoothed down the stubborn side seam and Bashir tried his best not to flinch. He had been expecting another pin jab. "There. You look enchanting."

"Enchanting?"

Bashir turned around and faced the mirror that was next to the fitting platform. The coat was snug on his waist and it flared playfully around his hips and wrists. Pins still flashed and bunched up the fabric near the seams and hems, but the overall effect was not ruined. Yet, the style was not something he was used to sporting.

"Why all the decorative flares? It's a bit- odd by your standards." Bashir stopped himself from saying "impractical," but the way the extra fabric surrounded his wrists ensured that they would get stuck on something eventually. He was particular about using his hands gracefully. His surgical mannerisms carried over into his daily habits of using his hands for all kinds of detail-oriented tasks.

The Cardassian spied the dubious glance Bashir gave his wrists. "Well, you'll hardly be doing lab work on an evening outing, will you? I think it brings attention to your gifted hands. As long as you keep the sleeves from dipping into your wine glass, the style will retain an exquisite appeal."

"Thank you. Errr-how much do I owe you?"

"You can pay me when I have the piece finished." Garak smiled.

Heavy footfalls sounded within the shop. Julian spun around and surveyed the newcomer to find that it was Miles with the firm tread. He was slightly out of breath.

"There you are! I was going to invite you to dinner tonight."

Julian cast his gaze to his Cardassian friend who had been excluded from both a greeting and a dinner invitation. Elim gave him an encouraging nod that clearly conveyed that he was not offended in the least and that Bashir could answer his friend in his presence. The doctor felt discomfort well up inside him in response to that nod. Garak had been so genial towards him and how had he repaid that kindness? He was forced to ignore his presence in front of those who had a history of bigotry. Miles was normally reluctantly polite to Cardassians, but he had never dealt Garak a social blow like this. It must sting to be treated as nonexistent, to be dealt with as a lesser being due the history of his species.

"Yes, but on one condition." Bashir gave him a soft smile.

He saw the tailor look up with interest and Miles appeared to be taken aback by the proposal of a deal.

"I would like Garak to accompany us if Keiko doesn't mind two extra dinner guests."

Miles's gaze darted back and forth between his friend and the Cardassian, as though calculating just how ominous of a threat the tailor proved to be and if he dared to risk Julian's friendship in favor of keeping the proverbial wolf out of his den. The tailor watched the engineer think with a slight smirk upon his lips.

"She won't mind. She's been twisting my arm to have both of you over at the same time anyway, what with you two and your gardening sessions."

The doctor's eyes widened and he directed an astonished look at Garak. "Gardening? You and Keiko garden together?"

The tailor inclined his head. "Oh, just a few times. We exchange advice and information about herbology, cooking, and how to properly nurture Cardassian Sun Stars. The conversations would seem banal to anyone who wasn't a horticulturalist. Though, I would like to point out, doctor, that I did not ask to be issued a dinner invitation. I am perfectly content to work my evening shift while you enjoy the hospitality of the O'Briens."

The doctor was fairly certain that Garak did not even have evening shifts unless he was swamped with work that required use of the equipment in his shop. He was aware that Garak was trying to back out of the situation.

"I can't properly enjoy myself if I know you're cooped up in this shop, and I'm willing to bet that whatever work you have can wait until tomorrow." Julian's voice had adopted a pleading tone.

The doctor focused his gaze directly on the tailor, letting his eyes convey his sincere wish for the tailor to accompany him. He had been told before that his soulful eyes could soften even the hardest of hearts and steer people over to his line of thinking. They must have done the trick this time, for Elim breathed out a defeated breath.

"Very well, doctor. We can't have you feeling uncomfortable."

Had that been a mild rebuke?

Elim started gently taking the coat from the doctor's shoulders and Julian had to squirm out of it or risk being stuck again. It was with mild astonishment that he realized that Garak was coming to dinner with him at the O'Briens' and he had been the one to force the issue. He felt some pride at having talked the spy into something against his initial refusal.

They finally worked the fabric off of his slim frame and Garak set his creation aside. Julian followed Miles out of the shop and the Cardassian brought up the rear. He switched over the sign on his door, shut off the lights, and let the door automatically lock behind him as he exited.

"Miles, I've been meaning to tell you that Felix has another program set up for us. It's another battle strategy game, but I'm not sure if you'll like it."

The engineer gave him an uneasy look. "Why? Do you get the main part again?"

Julian chuckled. "No, we're both of similar rank. We're-errr-defending Jerusalem from attack."

Garak gently broke in. "I think the doctor means that you will both be playing Muslim warriors helping to defend the city against Templar invaders."

They had finally reached the lift together and they got in with uncomfortable silence. The Cardassian had brought up a sensitive topic between the two friends. Despite being humans, the doctor and the engineer could not be more different culturally. Julian had grown into a young man in the UK and he had learned Federation standard, but he had spent much of his childhood in Sudan and Egypt. When it came to history, religion, and politics, he and Miles rarely saw eye to eye.

The lift moved down and Miles glanced over at Julian. "That's fine." He said it softly in the crowded lift. The doctor beamed.

They descended to the Habitat Level and got off like penguins filing up in a line. Bashir was trying to remain in the middle due to his divided sense of loyalty and Garak continued to keep an odd form of rear guard. He was also likely hanging back in case Keiko should be adverse to having guests that evening.

When they arrived on the doorstep of the O'Briens like strays, they found Keiko to be as accommodating as always and they were ushered in. Molly ran up to give Miles a hug and she gave Julian a bright smile. The smile fell a little when she spotted Garak. She looked back up at her father almost anxiously, probably aware of how Miles regarded his species.

"Julian and-Garak, I'm so glad you could make it." Keiko used their names hesitantly, but her face lit up as she welcomed them in.

"Mrs. O'Brien and Molly, thank you for accepting the unexpected visit. It's very good to see you again outside of my premises." Garak gave Molly a nod and glanced up at his host.

"It's Keiko and of course I'm glad to have you and Julian over. I've been meaning to ask you, how has your nettle flower been sprouting?"

They began a discussion about Bajoran flora and Molly dragged Miles by the hand to examine their replicated pumpkins. Miles was giving the Cardassian and his wife a mildly affronted look, but he seemed content enough with the situation. Molly explained her plan of carving the pumpkins.

"Julian can carve one too!" She invited.

"I can? Well, thank you. I'd better replicate one so I can carve the scariest pumpkin for you."

Molly looked disturbed at the thought. She shook her head.

"Not a scary one?" Julian pouted.

"No."

"How about a funny one?"

She nodded vigorously. She seemed pleased enough with that arrangement.

"But first we'll sit down and have dinner." Keiko reminded her. Mrs. O'Brien started in on the usual questions about what Bashir and Garak would prefer from the replicator. Keiko had dessert set aside so that she could bake it just after they dined. It was a treat for Molly for doing her homework early and for the impromptu Halloween celebration

Dinner went surprisingly well, mostly because Miles and Julian had stomachs that were bottomless. Garak was a little less famished and he took his time. He surveyed Bashir's ravenous appetite with mild amusement and a little disapproval. They kept their conversations short, trite, and to the point. After supper was concluded, they came back to the dilemma of the pumpkins.

Julian glanced at Miles. "Are we all going to carve together or-?"

It was a dangerous pastime, but Miles's solutions for such problems were ingenious.

"Modified handheld laser?" Julian suggested.

The engineer shook his head. "I can't make something like that in time for dessert but give me a minute to think. I'm going to have a look at some replicator tools."

Garak had been listening in. When Miles went over to look at the machine, he slinked up behind him.

"I think I may have a solution, if you would stand aside."

Miles gave the Cardassian a baffled look, but stepped away to allow Garak to work the replicator. Elim typed in a code. His hands were quick and nimble, making the pattern of his movements impossible to trace. An object shimmered into existence and at first glance it looked like a wood carving tool. It had a wooden handle and a curved blade.

"Let me try using this first, and then I will replicate more if it proves sufficient."

"What is it?" The engineer eyed the tool distrustfully.

"Just a simple carving tool. It comes slightly dull if you want to feel the blade. It requires a lot of pressure to do real harm to yourself."

He handed it over to their host and Miles inspected it. His thumb ran cautiously over the blade.

"The way it's shaped…Molly could use this."

"She will be able to, but before we decide let me give it a trial run."

Garak walked back over to his pumpkin and started putting deep punctures in the top. Once in a while the blade became stuck and he had to wiggle it out.

"Carving the lids is a bit difficult. I'll do this to all of the pumpkins first."

The tailor was speaking deliberately step-by-step for Molly's benefit and he appeared to be aware that he had the child's attention. He took the top off of one while Molly watched with fascination. Slimy gourd fibers and seeds clung to the lid.

"Now I'll carve the face. I'll tear out the innards later."

Garak sat down beside Molly so that she could have a good view. His pumpkin lay on its side on the table. Julian watched him with some small amount of surprise. He was aware that Garak had almost limitless knowledge about different cultural practices and crafts, but to know how to carve a pumpkin seemed to be odd information to file away.

"I'm just going to gently push up with this tool." A string of orange skin was peeled up. "And then I will decide on a shape- perhaps a triangle. I will keep repeating this step until I make a deep hole through it."

Molly was nodding in understanding. "Let me try!"

She reached for the tool and Garak watched her like a hawk while she followed his instructions. He cautioned her several times and told her to slow down, but she soon had a slightly battered, but triangular hole in the gourd.

"It's time to scoop out the guts before we do more carving." Miles announced.

Molly soon discovered that she did not like scooping out gourd innards and Garak continued to carve the lids off of the other two pumpkins.

"Would you like one, doctor?" The Cardassian gestured to his tool.

"Oh, no thanks. I'm more familiar with a knife." Julian started carving a goofy face into his orange gourd while Garak hunched over his with an intense expression of concentration.

"No masterpieces, Garak. You're going to put all of us to shame."

The Cardassian merely smiled and continued creating his piece. Every once in a while he would shift the pumpkin around to work on another patch of pumpkin skin. He had to take a break to replicate an additional tool for Molly. He worked with speed and agility, but it still took him nearly as long as Molly to complete the piece. When he finished, he merely set it down and then walked over to the doctor and his long since finished creation.

Baking smells wafted through the air and it became apparent that Keiko had finished their dessert. Molly went out to check on her mother's progress while Garak appraised the doctor's work.

"A charming expression. It looks like a thoroughly pleased gourd if ever I saw one."

"Let me see how yours turned out. I bet it's amazing." Bashir said with certainty.

Julian got up to survey it. "Oh- Miles, come look at this."

"What? What's wrong?" The Chief was alerted by his gob smacked voice.

"Garak made a masterwork."

"You are too kind, doctor," the tailor remarked.

Miles looked just as dumbstruck as Julian. A near exact picture of the station was carved with loving detail into the pumpkin. Garak had applied the tool like a woodcarver, using layers of pumpkin skin to differentiate between light and dark. An entire set of stars pockmarked the pumpkin. Bajor was depicted, and Cardassia was carved in as well. Cardassia was in the center of the composition.

"Molly's going to love this when we light it up. Next time I'm going to let you carve both of the extra pumpkins."

"Hey!" Julian protested.

Miles laughed and clapped the doctor on the back. He went to the dining area to talk to Molly and Keiko, leaving Garak and Bashir to tidy up the pumpkin massacre. Bashir scooped the shavings into tidy piles while Garak sprinkled them into the bowls of seedy innards to be disposed of in the replicator unit. The doctor picked up their tools and looked at them with interest. He knew that Garak had used something specifically Cardassian and it was something that the tailor was familiar with handling.

"Garak, what is this? I know that it's used for prying up something, but for the life of me I can't think of what."

"It can be used for prying up gourd fibers, as you have seen, doctor."

"Cardassians wouldn't carve up gourds for fun." Bashir frowned at the shiny tool as though it held a plethora of secrets. "Besides, the way it's shaped is awkward for carving though it worked well enough on pumpkins. It's used for something hard…possibly brittle and difficult to grasp, maybe something slick?"

The Cardassian was smiling enigmatically at him and his eyes held a gleam of something very dark. Lists of surgical tools flashed through Bashir's mind. Everything was too sharp, too precise in comparison to this slightly blunt instrument.

"I am certain that you shall figure it out soon enough. I believe that Mrs. O'Brien has dessert waiting and young Molly would not have us miss it."

The statement was very true. Keiko O'Brien had baked a batch of fruit tarts and she had set them out with a pleased smile at her enthusiastic daughter. Bashir asked Molly about how she liked school now that she was starting to attend. Keiko talked about how progress was being made in the classroom and how everyone was working together on their latest science project that related to Gamma Quadrant exploratory practices. Keiko was planning to go to the Gamma Quadrant with the children by the end of the year.

Miles joined in while discussing which would be the safest M Class planet to visit. Garak began pitching in and sharing information. As the tailor spoke, Julian started on his second apple tart. It was crumbly and it held hints of cinnamon and nutmeg. The baked apples slices were soft and slightly gooey. The doctor nibbled absent mindedly on the sweet dessert and his eyes were drawn to his enthusiastic alien friend. Garak was getting into the discussion. His ridges shifted and rippled with the movements of his neck and his slick scales shone in the light.

A tool for prying up brittle and slick objects…

Julian choked on a lump of brown sugar and cinnamon topping as it tickled his throat. He started coughing. Everyone turned to him. He set down his spoon and coughed into his fist after swallowing, his eyes watering.

Miles reached over and slapped him between the shoulder blades. Instead of clearing his airways, it only succeeded in making Bashir wince. "You alright?"

"Fine," the doctor gasped.

Garak handed him his untouched glass of water and the doctor drank it. Tickle abolished, he gave his Cardassian friend a searching look. His gaze was drawn to the thick scales near his friend's ridges and the layer of scales down the back of his neck where they were rigidly connected to his skin in some of the most sensitive areas of his neck. To use that blunt instrument to rip them out…it would be a very painful and bloody business.

"This dessert is sumptuous. Doctor, would you care to pass me a raspberry tart? They are positively divine."

Julian blinked and then hastened to pass the crumbly treat. As he handed the plate over, his gaze met Garak's. Despite the warm smile he received, the Cardassian's eyes were serious and more than a little somber. The look was gone in a flash and then Garak was all cheerful quips and compliments again.

Dessert was finished and feeling stuffed and contented, they took a few last minutes to chat. The doctor was quiet and the phenomenon was beginning to attract the attention of his hosts. Garak insisted that he should start heading back soon and that he would like to walk the doctor back to his quarters.

"Erm, thank you, but I don't think I need a body guard."

"But Doctor, we are behind on our discussion of our latest joint reading: Hamlet. I would like to give you my opinion before we forget about the book altogether."

Julian eventually nodded. He turned to Mrs. O'Brien. "Well, thank you for having us over and for the wonderful dinner."

"The replicator did most of the work." Keiko laughed pleasantly. "Thank you for keeping us company. I think Molly enjoyed the pumpkin carving."

Miles was busy putting smokeless candles in the pumpkins with Molly. The doctor and the tailor watched as their works came to life with flickering light. Miles saved Garak's for last, and the station and stars were illuminated against the backdrop of orange. Molly beamed and Garak blinked slowly with contentment. On that happy note, they took their leave. Only once they were a hallway junction away from the O'Briens did they start speaking to each other again.

"You really have a way with Molly," Julian said softly.

"My dear doctor, I merely did what anyone would have done and tried to help."

"Garak, about that carving tool you used..."

The tailor smiled expectantly at him as he waited for the doctor to finish the thought. They paused in the hallway.

"It looked like something you could interrogate your own species with."

Garak nodded. "It has been used for that."

"But then- you taught Molly to carve a pumpkin with a Cardassian torture device?!" Bashir's voice went high with horror.

"Doctor, would you care to keep your voice down?" Garak was casting their surroundings furtive looks.

"Why would you think of showing that thing to the O'Briens? What if Miles had recognized it?"

Elim sighed. "As much as the Chief knows about my culture, I doubt he has knowledge of what that particular instrument is used for. Before you start shouting again, I would like to add that it was not a torture device. At least, that was not the intention with which it was originally made for."

"Then what was it made for?"

"Surgical removal of scales around deep injuries for the purpose of making the area more accessible to a physician. Sometimes it is used to remove scales that grow around the joints to make us more mobile. I've applied it a few times over the years."

Julian stared at him with wide eyes as the tailor started rolling up his right sleeve.

"I know that you'll insist on seeing the result of such a procedure, so I'll satisfy your curiosity." Elim brought his arm forward and the doctor instinctively grabbed it.

The doctor had never seen the Cardassian's bare arms before. When he had brought Garak in for surgery, he had been more concerned about his brain and the Obsidian Order wire in it. He studied the arm with its shimmering and slightly translucent layer of scales extending from wrist to elbow. Some scales were thicker and larger over his brachioradialis and extensors.

Seeing Bashir's preoccupation with his muscle placement and scales, Garak redirected him. "My elbow, doctor."

Faint white lines, much like human scars, decorated his elbow in U-shaped patterns. Julian brushed his fingertips over them, squinting at the scars. Thankfully, there was no one in the corridor to watch the impromptu examination.

"A Cardassian doctor did this?"

The tailor shook his head. "It's my own work. No doubt a doctor would have left me without markings, but I didn't have the time to find one when the scales were starting to harden as they grew in."

Julian released the limb and Elim rolled his sleeve back up.

"Have you done this anywhere else?"

"Oh, here and there. Nature is seldom perfect, as you humans are familiar with. What with your umbilical cords, ingrown hair, and randomized infections." His gaze darted down to Julian's navel as though he was personally tutting the scar.

He remembered vividly the time that Julian had told him about human umbilical cords and their functions. Cardassian parents fed essential nutrients to their young through the baby's dermal absorption, but humans needed a tube connected to their abdomen to receive nutrition in the womb. A human's cord could cause all kinds of trouble during birth. Julian himself had almost been strangled by his and the cutting of it had not gone to plan. Garak had listened to the story of how his friend's life had nearly ended before it had begun with some dismay. Stillbirths occasionally occurred with Cardassians, but to hear that his friend had nearly become one was disquieting.

Nature had been kinder to their species in some instances, such as in giving them merely pesky and stiff scales. They were marvelous body armor, but when it came to covering the different joints on the body they could be unwanted. Garak had light scars on the backs of his knees, hips, shoulders, and elbows.

"I assure you that I am perfectly fine. There was no lasting damage. As much as I admire this station's décor, don't you think that we should…move on?

They had been standing and chatting for quite some time now. Julian reluctantly continued walking back to his quarters while Garak followed him. The doctor did not question why the spy was tagging along. The young man's brow was deeply furrowed.

"You look as though you have a question for me."

"Yes, but-" Julian frowned. "I don't know how you'll take it."

"Very little can surprise me."

"Have you used that tool on someone's neck during an interrogation?" Julian swallowed.

Elim glanced over at him while they walked. The doctor was sweating and his hands fidgeted nervously with his sleeves. Julian was aware of his past as an interrogator and a killer, but he somehow looked more terrified of the answer to this question than his past murderous acts.

"No."

Julian's sigh of relief was audible.

"I did some unpleasant deeds to earn an answer, but I rarely resorted to brute force or surgical pain. I preferred a psychological arena in most cases. I wish to dispense with this conversation, if you don't mind. It's not the sort of discussion one should have with a Starfleet officer."

"Ah."

"When is Halloween by chance?" Garak looked thoughtful.

"It was two days ago, but don't tell Molly."

"My lips are sealed."

They had finally arrived at Julian's door. They paused as they said their goodbyes.

"Thank you for coming to dinner tonight. I know it can't have been easy for you, what with Miles..."

"I believe that the Chief and I have reached an understanding."

"Oh, about what?" Julian tilted his head curiously.

"That in all matters we agree _not_ to understand each other," Garak stated with the same good humor, "In all matters that do not concern you, at least."

"You're a very understanding man."

"I try."

"I'll see you early next week," Julian reminded him of their lunch meeting. "Happy belated Halloween."

"And the same to you, my dear doctor."

Julian went to bed that evening feeling a little more culturally enriched than he had previously. His mind was on the slightly battered, but cheerful Cardassian tailor who had a deep creative streak, a willingness to follow Julian in everything, and a tendency to hold onto more secrets than the doctor could ever uncover.

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><p>The End<p> 


	2. Flowers and Forgetting

A/N: Warning for alcoholism-like habits! ...and vaguely romantic themes

Aftermath of Chrysalis

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><p>Julian watched Sarina's shuttle disappear into the vast dark curtain of space. As the gold light grew more distant, the doctor felt his fantasy vanish from his grasp and cold reality began to sink in.<p>

His dream partner…ha! What a vain and egotistical thought. He had been so eager to find the person of his dreams that he had trampled on everything and he had nearly harmed the mind of a kind and brilliant young individual.

He wanted to forget this, to erase it from his genetically enhanced brain as though it never had happened. He needed a drink, something to dull the sharp edges of memory. Quark's was still open at this hour and he might be able to find a back table to quietly drink at. There was so much ruckus that he would be overlooked there.

With his mind made up, Julian entered Quark's through the upper level. Bolians, Bajorans, and Ferengi passed him by without a second glance. Julian descended the metal spiral staircase down to the second level. He searched through the tables near the holosuites. Few people enjoyed the dark shadows here on the lower level except for dangerous business dealers and smugglers. Julian kept a cautious eye out and found an empty table.

The chair squealed against the hard plastic floor as he sat down, but he scooted it in towards the table. Julian saw the nearest Ferengi waiter wince at the noise. The sound managed to catch his attention, however, and the alien approached.

"I'll have saurian brandy, please."

The Ferengi nodded and jotted it down.

The small alien glanced up at him. "We have a special on Koganka pudding and Bajoran shrimp."

Bashir shook his head. He wanted to get tipsy…maybe even drunk. Eating was the last thing on his mind.

"Just the brandy"

"Coming right up." The Ferengi scurried off to the bar.

The customers were mostly chatting with drinks already in their hands and dining with their friends and dates. When the Ferengi showed up with his drink, Julian threw it back in a desperate way. God, it was awful stuff, but it was a step in the direction of forgetting about Sarina. It took a few swallows, but he managed it. The faintly bitter concoction made him smack his lips and order kanar. The Ferengi laughed at the order.

"What do you think I should get then?"

"The Bajoran spring wine is good with many of our meal choices-" The waiter started to persuade him.

The doctor flapped a hand impatiently. "Rum then."

"And-" The waiter began.

Julian was becoming snappish. "Oh, I don't care what you mix it with. You can give it to me however you like."

The waiter darted off and brought it to him mixed with a bubbly drink in a glass. Julian downed it as quickly as the brandy. The Alderbaran whiskey caught his interest next and he ordered that a bottle be left at the table. Sitting down, he started to lose awareness of how much he had had. Sarina's memorable face kept on coming to mind with the glowing blond hair and long lashes and shining eyes. Her beautiful mind was an even bigger consideration. Julian sighed. It was his fault that she was gone forever.

The doctor's genetic enhancements allowed him to drink a great deal of the whiskey until he could officially be labeled as well sauced. He was too drunk to note that the odd mix of beverages felt like the strangest cocktail in his stomach. The lights all sparkled and shimmered. He could hardly hear the noises in the bar. They were fuzzy, like background music. The room started to sway.

A feather-light touch landed on his shoulder. Julian looked over at the hand interestedly.

"Garak?"

A warm smile greeted him as he glanced up.

"Doctor, what a surprise to see you here. May I have a seat?"

"Oh-err" Julian hesitated.

"Thank you." Garak joined him. The alien addressed a waiter. "A Jelatnian fire, please."

"You're drinking too?" the doctor asked thickly.

"No, I wanted you to try a favorite drink of mine."

Julian grinned. "Right! So we can discuss it later over lunch tomorrow." The doctor rested his arm on the tailor's shoulder. "We should talk more outside of lunch, but everyone always makes a fuss when we've been together-I mean seen together. Bloody bigotry and all the stupid threats they give me…"

"Threats?" Elim blinked over at him.

"Yes, it's always Bajorans - They say we're unnatural, that we're plotting something like taking the station over. They say we're freaks." The doctor had become morose.

The Cardassian patted his arm placatingly and he shifted it off of his shoulder in one deft move. "That is sad, though hardly a threat, doctor."

Julian held up a triumphant finger. "Yes, but they didn't know I heard them plotting to attack you in your shop. I took you to the holosuite that day. That was when I told Odo to increase security around you."

The drink Garak ordered had arrived. It looked like a red gelatinous mix in a martini glass.

"Drink up, doctor." Garak handed it to him. "Don't taste it. The quicker you drink, the better the effect."

"Oh, sounds interesting." Julian swung it back and abruptly spluttered.

The doctor nearly dropped the glass. Garak unexpectedly sneaked a hand under his and kept tipping the fluid into his mouth. Julian almost choked and he surfaced from the empty glass coughing and red in the face.

"What are trying to do, kill me?"

The tailor smiled. "There are much more efficient ways of doing that. It was something to sober you enough to get you back to your quarters. Come along."

Garak took his arm and tugged at it.

"But I don't want to go yet. I wanted something to make me forget about Sarina-" He abruptly shut his mouth.

"Sarina?" Elim asked.

"I shouldn't have said that. I should probably leave," the doctor said it as if it had been his original plan.

"My dear doctor, please tell me who Sarina is."

Julian did not have the presence of mind to keep his mouth shut. "She's the most important person in the universe. I can only hope I didn't damage her."

"She's a patient?"

"I was…ugh. I don't feel well."

"Then allow me to accompany you back to your quarters." Garak succeeded in tugging him upwards this time.

By now, Julian's words came pouring out as though the small admission had loosened his tongue and he wanted to lay out all of the events. His speech was slurred and clumsy, but the Cardassian was able to decipher the majority of it as he escorted the doctor out of the bar. It seemed that Julian had helped one of his genetically enhanced patients to communicate. It had been after surgery had locked the young woman into her mind for years and she had been finally able to emerge. The doctor had found a kindred spirit and they had shared ideas, affectionate gestures, and he had entertained fantasies of a life for them together. The doctor had fallen into a form of romantic love. Bashir's voice was cracking with emotion as he relayed the events of the past few days.

The Cardassian steered him across the promenade, hand at his back to steady him. The doctor wobbled precariously several times and he was becoming overwrought with emotion. His voice had gained a high trembly pitch when he described how Sarina had retreated back into herself after his strong romantic overtures. Sarina once again spoke when Bashir begged her to tell him how he had scared her. As the story neared its somber conclusion, they both got onto the lift. Garak pressed in the numbers for the Habitat Ring Level and the doctor swayed woozily as he clutched the hand rails in a tight grip.

They were able to get out without incident, though the tailor had to tap his shoulder to indicate that they were going to be let off. By now, the doctor was staring dazedly at his feet as he walked. He gave a loud sniffle. Garak glanced back at him with dismay, fear evident that Bashir was going to break down into tears in the hallway. He cared not about what others thought about them should Bashir give vent to his emotions here, but he was concerned that the doctor was this close to being overcome. It was not something he would willing do in front of the tailor and he would probably bitterly regret it in a few hours.

"Come along, doctor." His voice held a softness, but also a firmness that helped focus Bashir.

They went past various noisy and quiet rooms, occupants going about their business while the doctor and his companion sought out Julian's quarters. At last, they had reached the door. Julian squinted and typed in the key code, stumbling over the threshold. Garak tailed him, letting the door shut behind them. The Cardassian called for the lights to come up to 30 percent. What he found in the dark room made him frown. The human had left a table set up with elegant dishware. A wilted rose stood as a solitary centerpiece between the cold candles that were relics of the past few days.

He steered his young charge past the dismal scene and into the bedroom. Julian had batted at him then, stating that he was sober enough to get ready for bed. He thanked him for his assistance. Smiling a genial smile, the tailor left him to it. Julian shut his bedroom door and Garak heard him noisily tug off his shoes. The Cardassian walked over to Bashir's coffee table. His PADD of novels resided here, ready for him to snatch it up should he feel like reading on the couch. Garak switched the screen setting over to a blank page and typed in a brief message.

* * *

><p>Julian only had a mild hangover. If he was not a genetically enhanced human, he would have experienced a splitting migraine and copious vomiting spells. He only had aching temples, a fuzzy feeling in his mouth, and a lethargic drag to his limbs. He was still pining just as miserably for Sarina as he had been yesterday, but something felt different about his emotions.<p>

He remembered a kind presence and a steady hand on his back from last night. He touched the spot wonderingly, memories coming back him. He squeezed his eyes shut with dismay and regret. What a picture he must have presented to Garak, spilling forth his secrets and-had he actually told him about those threats?

After getting cleaned up and dressing, he entered the living room. His reading PADD was put deliberately out of place. He picked it up and found Garak's message.

_If you are feeling well enough, I would greatly enjoy your company at lunch today. –E.G._

The tailor's initials were in Kardasi script. The simple sentence was gentle and supportive. Garak was known for his kindness in customer service, but this was something more genuine. The doctor noticed that the room felt off somehow and he blinked owlishly over at the table. Items had been rearranged there. The table mats had vanished as if into thin air, but everything else was present. There were still the candles, plates, glasses, vase, and-

Julian squinted, coming closer to examine the vase and its contents. A bright yellow flower with thick, velvety petals had been slipped into the vase. The wilted rose was gone and the new flower almost seemed to glow vibrantly in the dark room. It was a Cardassian sun blossom. The petals had a darker tint near the stem, giving a hidden glimpse of a fiery orange that would be exposed when the flower opened completely.

A slight smile started to quirk over the doctor's lips as he fondly brushed his fingertips over the petals. That wilted rose had haunted him for days, reminding him of how alone he was. Garak must have seen the symbolism. Julian started getting ready for his late morning shift and the elegant and hopeful flower remained on the table.

* * *

><p>The End<p> 


	3. Altercations and Wolves

Summary: Garak has an unfortunate accident in his shop. He tries to hide the results of the incident from Bashir.

* * *

><p>Garak considered himself to be a tolerant man. Living on the station was bad enough in a social sense without his own people to debate with or enough individuals with cordial personalities for company. He would have fared well enough if that had been his only dilemma, but a whole host of problems nagged at him. The station was kept at a constantly cold temperature ever since the Bajorans and the Federation had claimed it. He had managed to fix the temperature of his rooms and his shop, but if he simply wanted to take a stroll on the promenade, it was like stepping into a refrigerator.<p>

There was a certain human stigma attached to wearing thermal underwear. Admittedly, the garments had unattractive qualities like bagginess, stretching, an unflattering fit, and a peculiar texture. They were, however, crucial to maintaining a healthy body temperature. He had sewn several pairs in various materials that had been expensive, but worth the investment. If it had only been the lack of good company and the chills he would have maintained some semblance of calm in the lonely shell of Terok Nor. That was including the retina searing quality of the new lights and the general monotonous atmosphere.

It was his customers that most inflamed him. He enjoyed tailoring for the majority of the time. He liked the color matching and quiet nights spent on an outfit that was coming out beautifully. The artistic process itself made up for much, but there was always a customer that managed to get under his scales.

Today had been relatively quiet. Two of his favorites had visited that morning. Young Elna and her mother Letren had come by for a couple of fittings for something to wear to the Bajoran Gratitude Festival. It was only a week away. Elna was a quiet Bajoran child, but she was inquisitive. Garak enjoyed answering her questions and he treated the parent and child to his customary smiles. There was genuine warmth in his expression when he greeted them that clients of lesser quality went without.

Elna had a cloth toy with her of a Kelnar wolf. Its snarling face was depicted in brightly colored embroidery. She clutched it to her chest with one hand and poked around the shop with the other. She was rarely disruptive. She would often choose one piece of fabric to feel the hem of or just look around until her mother took her hand and steered her towards the changing rooms. Their visit went off without a hitch. Letren found a somewhat plain but silky dress that accentuated her eye color. Her daughter was given a similar piece, but with some playful stripes on the lining and ribbons woven into the miniature crochet shawl.

Garak waited eagerly for the afternoon. Doctor Bashir had invited him to play tennis in the holosuites with him. The Cardassian had accepted the invitation despite having no particular interest in learning the human game. The doctor had been busy lately and they had to skip the past couple of lunch meetings due to medical emergencies or off station trips. Today, they would finally have time to talk.

After a quick lunch in his shop, Garak looked over his digitized record keeping books and stitched the hem of a Bolian's shirt. His shop door chimed and he straightened up. He had been bent over his sewing on the measuring table.

"Hello, how may I help you this afternoon?" The Cardassian beamed at his new customer.

It was a wiry Bajoran with a similar stature to Bashir, but a tad stockier. He was muscular and he had the agile grace of a spring ball player. Garak would have many appropriate outfits for such a figure and the man would likely be pleased with them. Of course, he could be there to merely pick up an outfit for someone, but the Cardassian had a way of persuading his customers to stay and try things on.

"You'll be wanting an outfit for the Gratitude Festival, I gather? Or perhaps I could interest you in some comfortable sporting wear."

"I've been hearing some _rumors_ about your shop." The inflection of his voice left Elim without a doubt about the nature of these rumors.

The tailor blinked with surprise but kept up his customer service smile. He waited for the Bajoran to elaborate.

"I have a friend who works in security and they can confirm that you have illegal equipment here."

Really, did the man want to start a quibble over his self-constructed fabric laser? It was likely that he had heard false information about something else.

"I assure you that my equipment is legal and safe. In fact, you'll find that most of it is quite common for tailoring businesses in this quadrant. Constable Odo looked over my tools himself. There has never been an accident in my shop. You are in good hands, and-"

"What about the equipment in your changing rooms? Can you account for that?"

"My dear sir, your friend must have seen something else. I keep no sewing equipment in my changing rooms."

"What about surveillance equipment? I hear that you've been harassing Bajorans." The man took a step closer.

Garak's eye twitched, keeping a calm look plastered on his face. So, he was being accused of being perverse and taking advantage of his customers was he? It was apparent that this man had no interest in buying anything, but wanted to agitate him with his accusations.

"There has never been any surveillance equipment inside my shop except for the camera at the front door, which is in plain sight of any customer who enters. I would never impose on my customers' privacy to put bugs in a changing room. Not only is it illegal, but it is uncouth and uncivilized."

"So am I supposed to take your word on that? Cardassians have never been above being uncivilized."

Garak waved a hand. "By all means, investigate my changing stalls. Please be timely about it though. I have a scheduled meeting with someone today."

"My friend said that there was a camera in there, but the Constable was keeping it quiet to stay on your good side. I always thought that he was a collaborator." The Bajoran took a step closer, body language radiating hostility.

Garak had never started a physical fight in his shop and he was not going to start one now. There was always a time and a place, but this was neither.

"Sir, if you would care to bring in security into my shop to search it, then feel free to summon them. If that does not appeal to you, then I suggest you leave." It was an obvious dismissal.

"Are you throwing me out because I discovered your sick little game? How many times have you 'invited' yourself into a changing room? How often have you pretended you needed to measure Bajoran women with-"

The rest of the tirade was lost in a string of Bajoran that the universal translator left untranslated. Elim was fluent in Bajoran and he knew precisely what he was being accused of.

"Leave." His tone was firm. The false accusations were too grotesque to keep up an appearance of politeness.

"So you can get away with the assault of your customers? I'll tell everyone I know about this disgusting place and you'll have to shut down your business."

"I have asked you to leave. Do so before I call security," the tailor hissed.

When he looked back on this moment and the time that followed, the Cardassian began to critically evaluate his competence. Perhaps his skills had gone to the wayside. Perhaps he had resigned himself into his nonthreatening tailor role so much so that any act of violence towards him took longer to defend against. For whatever reason, the first blow caught him by surprise. The very nature of it was unexpected. He would have expected a blow to the abdomen, nose, or eye. Instead, he was firmly struck on the ear.

It was a Bajoran equivalent of a knee to the groin, only laden with an undercurrent of insult. Bajoran ears were extremely sensitive, like Cardassian shoulder ridges. They only struck the ear when they were in immediate danger or wanted to perform an act of seething insult or serious damage. This had been a brutal hit and it snapped Garak's head back. He nearly lost his balance and he had to step backwards to recover. His feet became tangled in something and then he was falling. His head collided with the edge of his sewing table and he hit the floor at an awkward and painful angle. He blinked, dazed and momentarily confused. He felt wetness on his face. The Bajoran retreated haughtily. Garak heard the door chime as the man walked out.

It appeared that the Bajoran was not interested in proof of his claims after all. It was typical of the species, acting before thinking. The man just wanted to take his anger out on someone, preferably a "Cardie" from the occupation. The tailor lay there for a moment until his instincts told him to move. Move to survive. The enemy was gone, but he could be back. His vision was tunneling and his left ear was ringing like a shrill siren. What had he tripped on? He never left anything on the floor in his showroom. His confidence with his familiar surroundings had undermined the situation.

The tailor reached up to wipe the wetness off of his face. Saliva clung to his hand and he frowned. It seemed that the man had spat on him and he had been too stunned by the fall to register it. He wiped the saliva onto the carpet, making a mental note of it to have it cleaned later. He sat up, moving slowly so as to not aggravate his head injury. This area of his shop was darker and not visible from the promenade.

As he straightened up, he discovered what had caused his fall. Elna's Kelnar wolf doll grimaced at him. The child must have dropped it just before she left. With a shaky hand, Garak picked it up. He knew from experience that his head could take savage blows and let him remain unaffected because of his thicker Cardassian skull. He was fairly certain that the table had not damaged anything vital, but he was still dizzy and pained.

Julian was expecting his company in a few minutes. If he claimed to be unable to socialize because of illness, the doctor would come to investigate. If he claimed to be too busy, Julian would think he was giving him the cold shoulder because of the medical emergencies he had to attend to the past few times. It seemed that facing his friend was inevitable. What could he tell him? "I'm sorry that I cannot play sports with you today, doctor. I was assaulted in my shop and then I tripped over a child's toy and hit my head." Yes, a graceful and quaint explanation. He huffed a small bitter laugh and then winced when his head gave a nasty throb.

Bashir would call Odo about the incident, and then Captain Sisko would be informed. Dukat would overhear the story somehow and this would become yet another humiliating tale that the sneering back stabber would use to his advantage.

His mind was made up. He must act as though nothing had happened. He would seek retribution on the Bajoran later. He would meet Bashir, play a round of tennis, have a friendly and numbing drink, and then go back to his quarters. He was an Obsidian Order Operative. This would be simple, or so he hoped.

* * *

><p>He met Julian outside of Quark's. Elim had dosed himself with a mild painkiller and put on a slim and dark outfit. It was tighter than his usual clothing, but inoffensive and it covered his neck. Julian had traded his usual racquetball outfit for something less eye catching. Still, he drew many appreciative looks as he waited for Garak on the promenade.<p>

"I was beginning to worry that you were going to back out."

"And lose an opportunity to teach you new techniques? I would never have dreamed of it, my dear doctor."

His gait was steady, as was his gaze. He knew that his appearance was holding up to scrutiny despite his ringing ears and splitting headache.

"I'm supposed to be the one teaching you." Julian smirked.

"We shall see what develops. I think you'll find my nature to be somewhat- competitive." Agony spiked in his skull and he shut his eyes for a brief moment. He walked into the bar and towards the holosuites. Julian followed him.

"So, should we try a regular field court or did you have something in mind?" The doctor had picked a holosuite in hopes that he would not trigger his friend's claustrophobia. Here they could play the game wherever they liked, whether it be in a court in the middle of a forest or even a Cardassian desert. The computer could handle the simulation.

"A field court would be adequate."

"I've brought the racquets. Quark's are a little damaged."

Julian handed him one and directed him over to the holosuite he had reserved. Garak glided through the open doorway without stopping. Julian quickly put in the program and hastened to follow. Garak could feel his composure slipping and he knew that this charade would not work. If he did so much as hop, his stomach would rebel.

"This is a field in…"

Elim was unable to catch anything he said. The ringing in his ears had reached a deafening pitch. Julian had been lining up to serve his first shot whilst talking. For some reason, he straightened up and began walking towards him. His mouth was moving and Garak was about to answer him. He was about to make a polite remark about the court or the doctor's outfit.

As if he had beamed to the spot, Julian was in front of him. The Cardassian could see him mouthing his name. "-ak?"

"Doctor." The sudden deafness was fading away.

"Garak, are you all right?"

Time seemed to slow down as the tailor looked into the human's eyes. It had never struck him until this moment just how different they were. Julian's face was so soft and unridged, devoid of sternness and utterly uncardassian. His gaze was open and clear, innocent of ulterior motive. It was like looking into the eyes of an animal. It was quiet and unassuming and something in him responded to it. This was safe because this was Julian.

"Doctor, I can't do this." It was the most honest thing he had ever said.

Julian's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"I have a head injury. It's mild, I assure you."

The human's eyes went impossibly wide at the vulnerable admission. Then, his expression closed off.

"Sit down. Slowly." Julian took his arm and gently lowered him down. He turned to the doorway. "Bashir to-"

"No." Elim seized his forearm. "This is a private matter, doctor. I am relying on your discretion."

Julian shut his mouth, but crouched low beside him and started pulling gently at his eyelids, checking to see if his pupils were unevenly dilated.

"Where are you hurt?"

"My left ear and the back of my head"

Julian sat down behind him, fingers tracing over the back of his skull. He found the large bump there and he held the tailor's dark hair out of the way while he inspected the bruising. The examination felt strangely mammalian, as though this was a primate grooming a reptile. Garak nearly snickered and then wondered just how hard he had hit his head. Julian shifted around to his side, squinting and inspecting his ear. His genetic enhancements allowed him to quickly determine the cause of the injuries.

"What happened? You're definitely going to the infirmary if you can manage it on your feet, but how did you smash your head into a table and get punched in the ear? The person who attacked you didn't hold back. This couldn't have been from a Bajoran."

Garak merely gazed at him.

"Good God, who assaulted you?" Julian looked thunderous. It seemed that he was familiar with the insulting nature of the blow.

"I didn't have the chance to discover the man's name before I joined you. I want to make it clear that I will not have the Federation or any other Bajoran know about this altercation."

Julian started to protest, but Garak cut him off.

"There will be appropriate retribution, I can assure you of that. A clip on the ear is not a horrific injury for a Cardassian, despite the intention with which it was delivered. I'm fine, doctor."

"Says the man with a goose egg on his head."

"A goose- what?"

"Never mind. This person would be dealt with harshly by his own government. Unprovoked assault and then striking you there is a huge cultural offense to the Bajorans."

"I will heal thanks to your ministrations. Really, doctor, I'll be fine. I appreciate the concern, but I don't want to inflame the politics of this situation."

Julian blew out a defeated breath.

"At least I may now enjoy the pleasure of your company without chasing after a ball. It's a rejuvenating activity, but not suited for good conversation."

The human gave a reluctant smile. "I enjoy our conversations."

"We don't need to have lunch or hold a sporting event to have one. I could have invited you to tea."

"We can still do that." The doctor grinned. The Cardassian mirrored his expression.

"_After_ I walk you to the infirmary."

The smile fell and the doctor chuckled at the expression. "It'll only take a couple of minutes, I promise. I want to thank you for being honest with me. I wouldn't have liked it if we started playing and you fainted on the court."

"I wouldn't have fainted," the tailor said defensively.

"Something would have happened. The point is that I'm glad you weren't the boy who cried wolf and was gobbled up."

"I'm not sure if you're making the right literary reference," Garak murmured as Julian helped him up off of the ground.

"I'm trying to say that I'm glad you didn't lie to me about this," Julian explained

"My dear doctor, I would never lie to you. Though, I must admit that a Kelnar wolf was responsible for most of my injuries."

"Now I know you're trying to fool me."

The tailor merely smiled and he was led off of the holosuite field. Julian kept a warm supportive arm wrapped around his back.

* * *

><p>The End<p> 


	4. By Name

Summary: As a rule, Garak never called the doctor by his first name. Garak has been known to break his own rules in order to manipulate any given situation to his advantage.

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, AlwaysAbby, Haro kzoids, The Tystie, and GeorgieGinger! This somehow ended up very fluffy and h/c-ish...

* * *

><p>The first occurrence had been oddly anticlimactic. One would have expected the incident to happen during a medical emergency or during a time of great peril. Garak rarely verbally slipped unless he was under pressure. Even then, he chose his words carefully and to the greatest effect during an emergency.<p>

He was intently working on a fine ball gown for a Betazoid senator. The gauzy fabric had been slipping around for a few minutes now while he tried to control the oddly shaped ruffle. The ruffle either had to go or be cut and hemmed again. Doctor Bashir had been sitting with him, telling him about his and Jadzia's latest science project involving different kinds of dissolving acids and how they could be used in ship manufacturing plants. Garak had gotten lost in the mix of industrial and chemistry jargon, but he listened politely. The material slithered out of his hands again from where he was trying to pin it evenly.

"Julian, give me my laser shears." He had his hands full and the doctor was sitting right beside his tool kit.

Garak had reached backward to grasp the scissors once his friend placed them in his palm. He felt nothing. He twitched his fingers encouragingly for the human to put the object in his hand, but the gesture had no effect. He glanced back from his bent position, frowning slightly. He had to trim this hemline now or he worried for his sanity. The human looked as though he was trying to imitate a fish.

"Doctor? I would like the assistance, unless you are otherwise occupied with trying to mimic an aquatic creature."

"Oh!" The doctor snatched up the tool and gave it to the tailor.

As Garak began trimming the ruffle, he ventured a question. "Is there something on your mind? You looked preoccupied for a moment there."

Julian fidgeted with the fabric scraps on the table. "You called me by my first name."

The tailor paused for a moment before he quickly went back to cutting off the excess blue cloth. "So I did. I apologize if the informality made you feel uncomfortable."

"No. I liked that you called me by my first name. It's actually accepted in many human cultures, especially between friends."

Garak's shoulders were tensing. "On Cardassia, calling an individual by their title is a greater sign of respect than discarding it. I would prefer to keep using yours, if you don't mind."

Julian did his best to retain a neutral expression, but he could not deny that the refusal stung a little. "Of course. That's fine."

The Cardassian put down the scissors and met his gaze.

"Doctor, I can ill afford to frequently call you by your first name, not because I don't have any ties to you, but rather because I _do_ have them. I have enemies who would not hesitate to exploit our connection and that position puts you in considerable danger. "

"Don't you think I can look after myself? You've been training me in surveillance techniques and self-defense."

The tailor gave him a soft smile. "And you have risen to the challenge admirably, but I believe that there is a human phrase about erring on the side of caution. To be frank, I do not want to find out if you can avoid capture. I never sought to bring trouble upon you."

Julian's dark eyes held a hint of sadness. "Ever the vigilant spy."

Garak picked up his scissors again. He cut through the ruffle in one smooth movement of his arm, tilting his hand at a precise angle.

"I believe that my current vocation is tailoring."

The doctor's expression became as masklike as his friend's. "As long as you remain the 'plain and simple Garak' I befriended, I have no complaints."

"Always, doctor."

* * *

><p>The second time Garak called Julian by name had been in a runabout. They had just escaped from a Dominion prison camp. They were filthy, wounded, exhausted, and hungry. The Cardassian had taken over the controls of the runabout while Martok assisted Worf to a bunk in the back. Julian joined them shortly and he unearthed the Federation medical kit to heal Worf's injuries and give him the necessary medicine to prevent infection. While his comrade was being examined again, Martok ordered a meal from the runabout replicator.<p>

The doctor ran the dermal regenerator over Worf. He froze when he smelled food and he licked his lips and swallowed. His stomach was empty. He shook himself. He had patients to treat first and then he could finally see to his own needs. After tending to Worf, he turned to Martok and ran his scanner over him. As usual, the eye wound showed up on his tricorder, but he knew that Martok would not appreciate his offer of an artificial replacement again. Like him, the Klingon was famished and he was deficient in several vital vitamins and nutrients, but he seemed to be remedying that himself. The doctor gave him an additional shot and Martok stated his thanks. Bashir went to go check on Garak.

The tailor was piloting with effortless efficiency and he seemed more at peace than ever. The doctor could tell that he was relieved to be free of the enclosed space by the life support systems behind the walls of the prison camp. Yet, there was a barely discernible sheen of hurt behind his eyes. The Cardassian did not have the time to properly grieve for Tain and it would catch up to him at some point, but he retained his composure while in Dominion space. Bashir sat down silently beside him in the co-pilot's seat and took out his tricorder. Garak turned in his chair.

"I think you'll find that my pulse is back within its normal parameters."

"Hmmm." The doctor was intent on his screen.

His doctor's instincts and observations told him that Garak was emotionally worn, but fine. He wanted to double check everything, just in case there was something he had overlooked. Now the damned screen was shaking. It must be from the turbulence of the spacecraft.

"Perhaps you should follow the Klingons' example and make use of the replicator. I've heard that the Dominion is fond of starving their prisoners and I need you to remain conscious. I could do with a meal myself."

The doctor smiled softly at Garak's subtle show of concern. "All right, but I don't think I can keep up a conversation about Cardassian literature this time."

Garak nodded and waited while his friend brought them meals. The doctor sat down with his vegetables, rice, and meat, and he proceeded to dig in. He practically inhaled the food. For once, the Cardassian did not admonish him about his impatient eating habits.

They finished and Bashir set his bowl aside with a contented groan. He leaned back in his chair and his eyelids began drooping. Martok joined them, informing them that Worf was sleeping. The doctor did not respond, only blinking heavily over at the Klingon. Julian heard the distant sound of a chair squeaking as Garak stood and handed over the piloting of the runabout to Martok.

He stated that he would be back in a moment. The doctor jumped a little when he felt Garak's hand on his arm.

"Come along, doctor. We can check on Commander Worf's condition together."

Bashir nodded and stood. The statement did not seem odd to him at the time.

The human and the Cardassian walked back to the bunk area. Bashir immediately went over to Worf's prone form but discovered that he seemed no worse than before. Garak tugged on his uniform.

"Doctor, could you step over here for a moment?" The tailor spoke softly.

Garak was maneuvering him as if the doctor was in the way and he would like to have more room in the cramped space. The Starfleet Officer obediently let the tailor nudge him. Suddenly, he was being pushed backward and his legs bumped into something. He clung to the tailor's arm to avoid losing his footing.

"Garak, what…?"

"Relax."

The doctor was trying his best not to fall. Very abruptly, his legs gave out from beneath him. He landed on something soft and he realized that he had fallen on the other bunk. The Cardassian was pushing him backwards and his legs were lifted onto the mattress.

"But-"

Garak was tugging the blankets up over him. The doctor found himself being tucked into bed without so much as a 'by your leave.'

"Garak!" His eyelids kept drooping too much to give his friend a glare.

The tailor just smiled. As he watched, the worry lines on Bashir's face smoothed out and his breathing deepened, but the human was still trying to remain awake. It was easy to see that he had been struggling to hold onto consciousness for hours…days even. He had been slurring his words at the ship controls and his body had been sagging. Seeing Bashir twitching his fingers in an unsettled manner, the tailor tried a new tactic.

"Go to sleep, Julian."

Exhaling heavily, Bashir let his eyes close.

The doctor slept deeply during the trip back to the station. Something in his genetically enhanced brain had triggered the recovery process after the past two months of imprisonment. Keeping a vigil over Tain and caring for the other prisoners had depleted his reserves of energy. He awoke towards the end of their trip.

They eventually arrived and disembarked from their spacecraft. The airlock opened and shut behind them as they made their way towards the relieved welcome committee. Garak and Bashir greeted everyone. Deep Space Nine had never looked more like home.

* * *

><p>The third time Garak used his name was when the doctor had just returned from a medical conference. The human had joined him at their customary table without a word, just a chipper grin of greeting.<p>

"Ah, doctor. It's good to have you back and looking refreshed, I see. Was the medical conference of interest?"

Julian smiled and nodded at him. He set down his tray gingerly, trying to prevent spilling his tea and soup. It was an unusual amount of liquids that he had ordered for lunch. He normally favored something spicy or doughy. Another peculiar thing was that he was making sure to keep his PADD tucked under his arm. He did not take it to their lunches, preferring to save time for their debate rather than to complete paperwork.

"Please, do share the details of your experience. Were there any Cardassians there on Cleptara?"

The human shook his head.

"What about the topics you covered? Is everything all right?" Garak's brow ridges drew together as he surveyed his companion. Julian seemed cheerful enough, but he had yet to speak. "I'm not having lunch with a silent Founder, am I?"

Bashir quickly typed something into his PADD. He showed Garak an official medical clearance certificate with his DNA test, but he need not have bothered. Elim knew his body language by heart. He had been teasing him in hopes of getting a verbal answer.

The doctor sipped at his tea, shutting his eyes contentedly. The Cardassian tilted his head like a curious animal. He was frankly a bit shocked with what Bashir's silence entailed. When Cardassia needed to silence someone without disposing of them, their tongue or throat was damaged. Sometimes they were tortured or conditioned into silence. Could this all be an elaborate show that the genetically enhanced human was putting on? Had someone hurt him so badly that he could not speak?

"Julian?" Garak gazed at him, body language practically radiating concern.

The doctor's eyes opened and widened considerably before he turned to his PADD again and started typing something in.

_I have a bad case of laryngitis. I'm sorry to worry you. I thought you knew._

"Laryngitis? I'm not familiar with the term."

_It's a condition caused by inflammation of the larynx. I've already had it seen to, but I need to relax my voice for a few hours so that it can heal completely_.

After typing the answer in, the doctor started on his soup and bread. Garak ate his own meal in silence. He waited until the doctor slowed down before he asked questions.

"You are ill and it damaged your voice, but you will regain your ability to speak soon?"

The doctor grinned and nodded.

"You seem to rely on movements of your head for nonverbal communication. You know, that sign has a completely different meaning to a Cardassian."

_But I've seen you nod the human way before._

"So you have. It has a different interpretation depending on how it's done. A single nod downward indicates respect and service. An emphatic nod is more boisterous and seldom used among the elite of Central Command."

Julian looked thoughtful before he typed his next statement in._ What about that odd little side nod you do around me? Does that have a meaning?_

"Doctor, nearly every Cardassian gesture has an intended meaning. Humans can be so…careless with their body language sometimes. For instance, you constantly switch from flirtatious to wanting to wish someone immediate harm, if your movements were to be accepted as Cardassian."

_Then maybe it's a good thing that I'm perceived as a human, otherwise people would by batting their eyelashes at me one minute and then running away the next._

"That would be unfortunate. I have seen that human eye signal before. It's a trifle unnerving in our culture."

_I never knew about this. It's fascinating. _

"I have no doubt. It probably lends a different meaning to all of the novels I've leant you."

The doctor's jaw dropped with disbelief.

"You mean t-t…" His voice crackled horribly as he tried to speak.

The Cardassian pushed his PADD towards him, encouraging him not to damage his voice.

_You mean that all this time there was a different sub-plot going on in every novel, depending on the body language?_

"Precisely. Would you like me to lend you more?"

The doctor frowned, thinking.

_Yes, but can you give me a manual on Cardassian body language so that I can correctly interpret it?_

Garak smiled. "I know of no manual. It's largely a cultural language that Cardassians learn at a young age."

The doctor sighed with defeat.

"You have been observing me, which should give you an insight…would you care for my dessert? It's one of your favorites: cherry crumble with Aglar berries."

Julian lit up with interest and Garak passed over his plate. The doctor dug into the crumble with gusto.

"I hope that they remembered to feed you during this conference. I can't say that I'm overly fond of the fact that attending managed to damage your throat."

The doctor shrugged and typed one-handed.

_It's fine. I'll be talking again soon. In fact, everyone has been saying that it's a nice change that they don't have to hear me prattle on._

"I can't speak for such people, but you may rest assured that I don't enjoy your silence. I'll be glad to have our conversations back."

The statement made the doctor smile charmingly. He looked genuinely happy with the tailor's admission. Their lunch ended with cheerful nods and fervent hope that Garak would not have to remain the sole source of verbal communication. The doctor soon gained his voice back and it was just as strong as before. Their meetings continued as if the period of silence had never occurred, except for one significant difference.

After that quiet conversation, Julian went to check his old reading PADD for any Cardassan literature. He had the habit of erasing a book after he read it for the purpose of leaving more room to store new data. As luck would have it, he had neglected to clear out a Cardassian short story. It was a small myth that Julian had found on the station server. In the story, a Cardassian child had befriended a feral riding hound. It protected her with its life. Even when it was vicious, it never snapped at the youth and it remained companionably by her side. The child often gave a tilting nod to the hound, which was treated more as a treasured friend than an animal in the fable. It could be seen as a sign of friendship or familiarity, but it was clearer in the interpretation that it was a show of trust.

Every time that Garak tilted him a nod in private now, the doctor beamed. He could not help thinking that his involuntary silence had been worth the new knowledge that Garak trusted him more than anyone on Terok Nor.

* * *

><p>The End<p> 


	5. Sunsets and Stargazing

Summary: After the war with the Dominion, Garak and Bashir meet again under more relaxed circumstances on Risa.

* * *

><p>Bashir looked up at the sky, eyes scanning the shimmering clouds lit with golden light from the sunset. The puffs of white were stretched thinly against the backdrop of clear and crisp blue. The wind picked up, ruffling the doctor's hair as he craned his neck upward to watch the breathtaking display in the heavens.<p>

Garak had given the sky only a cursory glance before directing his gaze to Bashir. The doctor looked happy. Not a single furrow adorned his brow and his face was encompassed with an expression of awe. The Cardassian found himself staring at his friend with something akin to warmth.

Throughout the war, they had struggled to survive and they were forced to hide secrets that ate at them. They had lost blood, sweat, and tears during combat with the Dominion. Bashir had finally managed to relax and smile genuinely again as if he did not have a care in the world. That sight was worth a thousand brilliant sunsets to Garak, and the tailor turned diplomat was not going to miss it.

Bashir breathed a dreamy sigh and turned to his Cardassian friend.

"I wish I could see sunsets like this every day."

"So do I."

The doctor blinked over at him with surprise. "Really? You don't seem that interested."

The Cardassian smiled enigmatically at him. "My dear doctor, I assure you that I value this sunset highly."

Bashir simply grinned at him in the trusting manner of a child. He glanced around at the empty beach. The sky was darkening and casting shadows across the open landscape. His smile faltered when he noticed that they were the only two individuals on the seashore.

"Oh, I guess we should head back. Don't you want to take your shoes off? They must be full of sand." Bashir glanced down at the flat styled shoe. The shoes had sunk deeply into the sand where the alien stepped.

"Well…" Garak made a show of checking the shore for any newcomers.

"Your feet can't be that ugly."

Garak scoffed. "Ugly! Why doctor, you might find it informative to know that by Cardassian standards human feet are considered strange and unsightly. You should take this opportunity to learn that though we call differences unattractive, they are simply differences in the end."

Garak removed his shoes with a deliberate flourish. Bashir's jaw dropped as he gazed upon his friend's feet for the first time.

"You have frills! Or webbing, I suppose. That is absolutely remarkable."

The Cardassian examined them idly. "You think so? They're difficult to squeeze into human size shoes. Boots have the tendency to pinch them sore."

Garak's feet had webbing between the toes and a sort of decorative frill on the top of his arches. It was all slightly ragged and organic looking like someone had wrapped the Cardassian's feet in tattered cloth.

"They're amazing. They remind me of Terran desert lizards. They tend to bury themselves in the sand and use decorative webbing like that to hold the sand up around them so that they can have enough room to breathe."

Garak chuckled. "I remind you of a desert lizard? How charming. Next you'll be comparing Colonel Kira to a Sehlat and Constable Odo to a hawk."

"The difference is that Odo actually was a hawk much of the time." Bashir reminded him.

"Amongst other things." Garak started heading back towards their rental house.

Bashir ran to catch up with the Cardassian's quick stride. "I'm going hover surfing with Jake and Nog tomorrow. Do you want to come along?"

"Of course, but to watch only. The water is too brisk for me to properly enjoy. If you need someone to dissuade you from taking physical risks, then I am your man."

"Physical risks? Are you talking about my age?"

"You're not exactly growing any younger, doctor. The war with the Dominion has aged us all. Even young Sisko is showing the effects. One of these days you are going to throw out your back simply because you refuse to acknowledge that you are no longer 28."

"Having a youthful mind isn't unpleasant. It's supposed to be the secret to longevity."

"Then I am afraid that you are far going to outlive me."

Julian frowned over at him as he walked. They were nearly to their vacation house.

"Circumstances are still bad on Cardassia, aren't they?"

Garak's expression said it all. He swallowed, bright blue eyes darkening with emotion.

"So few of us have survived and thousands more are dying from disease and pollution."

"Elim." The doctor lightly touched his elbow. "Why did you warn me away? I would have done anything to help, but your letters became so…agitated when I said that I would follow you to Cardassia."

"It was not your battlefield or your responsibility. Before you tell me that didn't matter, let me say that your letters brought me a great deal of comfort. It was reassuring to know that you were far away from that poisonous atmosphere. I knew that you would have given everything up for my people. They would have given you very little in return and shown open hostility. To know that you were continuing on with your life was of great consolation to me."

"Why? Damn it, Garak, do you think that it was easy for me to let it go? I knew that casualties kept mounting and I feared that one day I might glance through a list of deaths and find 'Elim Garak' there in the list of Cardassian names."

"Yet, doctor, here we are. We are alive and on one of the most beautiful planets in the Alpha Quadrant. If we wish to regret the past, then we risk forgetting about the tranquility of the present."

Julian sighed. "You're right. There's no use getting worked up over it now."

They had reached the front of their vacation house. The exterior décor was a gaudy turquoise and yellow. The tailor of Terok Nor would have scoffed about their tacky accommodations and pronounced all Risians colorblind, but this quiet and subdued Cardassian diplomat just took it all in with a weary expression.

Garak typed in the access code on the door activation pad. He spared Bashir a short reassuring smile. They entered, shaking off the slight film of sand on their shins.

"Jake and Nog are probably going to stay out all night again. It's another quiet evening for us. Lemonade?" Julian offered.

"Please."

Bashir poured out cold glasses of lemonade for them. He had fixed up the pitcher before they had gone on their walk. The doctor insisted on making a few things the old-fashioned way while on vacation and replicator lemonade did not satisfy him. He put less sugar in the drink so that Garak could enjoy it. It was true that Garak liked sweet things, but he preferred natural sugars over synthetic sweetness. The doctor sat down with his Cardassian friend at the table.

"You almost sound disappointed."

"Not at all. I was thinking about the last time I was on Risa."

"I remember. You returned in those horrid vacation clothes and you were irked with Mr. Worf."

The doctor chuckled. "Yes, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. I guess it's just surprising to me that I'm not eager to go out. It's-well-it's too much work and I would rather read and listen to the waves."

"You're sounding positively Bajoran."

"Or like an exhausted doctor"

"You know, they don't have a policy against being out on the seashore after dark. We could build a fire. I've heard that humans are fond of that activity."

"That's an excellent idea. We could sample the kanar you brought and stargaze."

"It sounds as though you'll take a nap after the first five minutes." Elim smirked. He was familiar with the doctor's drowsiness after imbibing.

"I can't guarantee that I won't. Though I'll wager you'll fall asleep before me. I'm younger, after all."

"My dear doctor, are you calling me old? Not that I mind, of course, it's considered a complement on Cardassia."

"Hmm. Your chufa has lines in it."

"So does your forehead."

"That's because I'm moving my eyebrows," Julian said defensively.

"Perhaps I'm doing the same."

"You don't _have_ eyebrows."

They stared at each other for a moment before the doctor dissolved into fits of laughter and Garak joined in.

"I put something in the lemonade," Julian confessed.

"I thought so. It's good to know that we've retained our mental faculties and haven't started laughing over facial features like children."

"Oh, but that's great. We could afford to be more child-like, don't you think? I'd go so far as to prescribe it."

"I think that you've had enough lemonade. We should build the fire while we're both still sober." The Cardassian shifted his weight in preparation to stand.

"Garak."

The former spy paused.

"Thank you for taking this trip. I know that it must have been difficult to pull yourself away Cardassia."

"There is no need to thank me. We were both guilty of overtaxing ourselves of late, but it's turned out quite well, wouldn't you say?"

Julian could not agree more. After losing so many friends they had both thrown themselves into their work. They had thinned down and their faces were lined with stress and shadows of fatigue. Some R and R had been a high priority for them and the doctor had encouraged his old friend to seize this chance. While in each other's company, the struggles they had endured seemed diminished and the universe's complexities had fallen away in the face of their familiar friendly banter. Despite their abandoned responsibilities, neither of them regretted the decision to visit Risa.

The doctor rose up, beaming. "Let's go stargaze."

* * *

><p>The End<p>

* * *

><p>AN: I'll try to write action genre stories later. I just needed my fluff.


	6. Thawing

Summary: Bashir trusts many people, but when it comes to Garak he is reluctant to put his life in the Cardassian's hands. Garak proves himself to be capable.

* * *

><p>"Julian!" Jadzia came pelting towards him down the docking ring.<p>

The CMO of Deep Space Nine was about to cross over the threshold into the runabout when he saw his friend arrive. She appeared to be out of breath and her face was flushed.

The doctor was making a standard supply run to a Federation colony that needed medicine to combat a virus outbreak. It was a condition that was ravaging the youthful. It was on a small, snowy planet formerly known as EF 1277-9. The Federation had used it for mining purposes and established a human colony there.

The planet was in Cardassian space and guarded by strict Cardassian borders. The Cardassians had agreed to their supply run and have given them a window of time for their errand, but they had been tetchy about the whole affair. There were suspicions that the Cardassians had a military base or a bioweapons research center nearby, but they were only rumors at present. Bashir was being sent with a Cardassian mediator in case the trip went south or if he needed to have a high level security code.

The appearance of Jadzia had been a pleasant surprise and he had happily turned around to accept any well wishes or gestures of affection before his departure.

"I realize that this is last minute, but I heard from Benjamin that you didn't have a thermal coat and that you were going to use the emergency jackets on the runabout." Jadzia stuffed a soft wrapped package into his hands. "This is Ragenese fur and it should keep you warmer than the emergency coats. I wore one on my last trip to the Gamma Quadrant. I would have brought one for Garak too, but I heard that he wasn't going to the planet surface."

"You're right. I don't want to risk straining his Cardassian biology. It frequently gets below -17˚Celsius and I don't think he can endure those kinds of temperatures without some kind of health repercussion. He won't tell me if he can…at least."

"Have a safe trip and don't let Garak get you into trouble." Jadzia lightly touched his shoulder and then leaned forward and embraced him. Julian's arms came up to wrap around her.

The doctor sputtered with mock surprise. "Get into trouble? What about _me_? I've always been curious about this Cardassian sector and if we should happen to stumble across something _interesting_…"

She pulled back and playfully slapped his arm. "Don't even think about it, Julian. This is a supply run and if you do anything to jeopardize-"

"All right, calm down. I was joking." He gave her an affectionate grin.

She seemed to relax when she realized he had been teasing her.

"Thank you for the coat. I'll be sure to wear it."

"Trust me, it's comfortable. Don't be gone for too long."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Smiling in farewell, he boarded the Rio Grande.

Garak looked up from his spot in the co-pilot's seat as he entered. Julian saw his gaze dart immediately to Jadzia's gift. The tailor's expression was inscrutable.

"So, the Lieutenant saw you off. What did she give you this time? I hope it's not another pair of pants. The last one had such enthusiastic colors that I thought I might have to arrange for them to have an unfortunate accident."

Julian looked annoyed by the comment, but he replied in an even tone. "She gave me a coat. I thought that you got along well with her. You two always talk about fashion and station gossip."

Garak nodded. "I won't deny that she has a keen fashion sense but her visual perception of color is that of a…typical Trill. As for topics that we discuss, I would hardly call it gossip."

The Cardassian knew perfectly well that Jadzia regularly shared information with him about station residents. Julian had interrupted their in-depth conversations several times, and after every incident he could tell that they had more than purely detached interest in everyone's comings and goings.

"If you say so," Julian muttered and seated himself at the helm. He started clearing all moorings.

The Cardassian continued to talk as they took off into the vastness of space and went into warp. Julian piloted them for a while. He would occasionally answer Garak back or contribute to the discussion, but he seemed content to listen to the tailor as they traveled. To his surprise, Garak was in a wistful and thoughtful mood.

"Do you ever think about the universe as a whole, doctor? It has been expanding at a rapid rate and it shows no signs of slowing down or ever truly stopping. Even the most learned man cannot begin to fathom just how much more there is discover and to question. Yet, a being like you who can understand the complexities involved with documenting expansion and universal change has resigned himself to one section of the Alpha Quadrant."

The doctor considered his words. "I suppose you could say that I've limited myself. Yet…I'm quite happy to continue on with my humdrum life of getting patients to cooperate and finding cures to various diseases. I didn't join Starfleet because I wanted to make history. I joined to live out my own adventures."

The Cardassian gave an understanding nod, but he still seemed almost nostalgic for the majority of the trip. They eventually entered Cardassian space and they were forced to perform a code verification for the patrol. Their ship was scanned. They crossed the border with minimum fuss thanks to the efforts of Tain. Garak's eyes had darkened with an unreadable emotion as he heard which Cardassian had been responsible for giving the trip their blessing.

Arriving at their destination, they prepared the equipment and the doctor readied himself to be beamed down with the medical supplies. He replicated a thick pair of boots that could withstand trudging through snow and warm gloves to protect his hands. He opened the packaging around Jadzia's coat and smiled. It _did_ look warm. It even came with heating packs. It was grey with accents of blue. The lining was fur, but the outside was made of a suede-like material.

His Cardassian friend looked uncertain when he saw it. Julian crossed his arms as if to say, '_what is it now_?'

"The trade of Ragenese fur is quite illegal, you know. Though I don't know why the Federation bothers to protect the beasts. They are ecologically inefficient and you'll never find a more unattractive creature in the Alpha Quadrant. Though, I grant that their fur does contain adequate warming properties."

"There, you see? I have excellent friends with good taste." Even though the coat had an illegal background, it had come from Jadzia, which made up for its origins.

"If you say so, doctor." Elim echoed his words from earlier and then smiled cheerfully.

The tailor stuck a comm badge on the human and led him to the beaming platform where he helped stuff Bashir's hands full of medical supplies. He fiddled with the satchel straps on his shoulder. The doctor chuckled.

"What is it?"

"You're acting like my personal valet." Even as the doctor said it, he noticed Garak adjusting his gloves and buttoning up the side slits as though Bashir was in his tailor's shop.

The doctor was closely reminded of a parent helping to bundle up their child before going out into chilly weather. He felt warmth spread through him from the subtle protectiveness of the gesture.

"There's no reason you shouldn't look your best while saving the Alpha Quadrant. I came here to be of assistance, and the Federation always believes in making a good impression, no matter the circumstances." The tailor was calm.

"I think I can make a good impression now. Would you be so good as to beam me to the planet surface?"

"Of course." The Cardassian stepped back and typed in the coordinates. The doctor vanished in a haze of blue and white light.

* * *

><p>After arriving at the beam point, Bashir had a walk in store for him. The colony had a shield provided by a beacon that made the transference of transporter buffer matter infeasible. He was weighed down by bags and cases of equipment. He slowly trudged through the snow, leaving a fresh pathway.<p>

The landscape was desolate out here, but he started to spot homesteads in the colony on the horizon. It was made up of modern buildings that were humble in their own way. It was a mining community that was nearly nondescript. The houses were mostly made out of metal and they were colorless except for a drab natural grey and a dusting of white snow.

After a steady hike, he arrived and was led to the community center. Colonists were keeping their young patients here who were victims to the selective, but curable virus.

Upon arrival, Julian was greeted by several nurses who divested him of the equipment. They were eager to get the Federation medical equipment that would help them minimize patient symptoms. Julian spoke with a nurse about the correct dosages to be given with consideration of height and weight. He received the impression that she already knew the information. After delivering the instructions, he examined his surroundings.

The human children were very ill. They huddled together in the sickroom, emitting phlegmy coughs. The patients were bundled up in numerous blankets and several heating apparatuses warmed the air. Julian crouched down and felt the brow of the nearest patient. The teenager's forehead was clammy and damp with sweat, but not unnaturally warm.

"You're not feverish. You should be feeling better soon."

He did not have time to tend to each ill individual, but giving a few seconds of comfort to one of the youths did much to ease his conscience. The teen slowly nodded in response to his words.

"You brought the supplies. T-thank y-" The youth was overcome by another fit of coughing.

"Rest and just try to relax. Doctor's orders." Julian smiled.

The young human nodded in response and let his eyes drift shut. Julian continued on his way out of the sick room. This part of his job was the worst. Leaving people in need had never been his way, but he knew that it was unavoidable and he had a time limit here. After informing a nurse of his departure, he stepped out of the community center and back into the cold streets. It was time to give Garak a status update. He slapped his chilled metal badge.

"I've delivered the packages and instructions. I'll be on my way to the beaming point momentarily."

"Confirmed. I'm not going anywhere, doctor."

Julian could almost hear the fond smile in his voice. The doctor started trudging through the snow banks on the outskirts of the settlement. It was sleeting and the sky was darkening with cloud cover. He sunk deeply into the embankments and he had to wriggle his way out. The wind gusts started picking up and the snow was coming down in heavy droves. He tapped his commbadge again.

"It's going to take me a while to get to the beam point. There's a storm picking up. It doesn't look dangerous, but it's going to slow me down."

"Would you like for me to meet you at the beam point?"

The offer made Julian pause. "Err, no. Thanks for the concern, but I think I can make it through. Just be on standby."

"Waiting on standby." The tailor sounded more businesslike.

Slushy snow pelted against the borrowed jacket. It slapped him in stinging pieces in the face. The wet coldness seemed to go straight to his bones. _It's a good thing Garak isn't out in this_, he thought. The Cardassian was safe and cozy in the runabout and the doctor was glad of it. Bashr's mammalian body was much more suited for this kind of climate than his friend's…if only this blasted coat would stop tickling him. He scratched his glove covered hands.

He only had a mile to walk before he reached the beam spot. It was going to become very cold very quickly. He crossed his arms and shivered. It was time to plow forth into the true frontier.

* * *

><p>The Cardassian waited for the call to inform him that Julian had reached the beam point and that he was coming aboard. In the meantime, he whiled away the minutes by accessing the runabout's meteorological scanning equipment. There was a storm brewing near Julian's location. The doctor would have his work cut out for him navigating through the snowfall and wind. He did not envy such a struggle. To be surrounded by those massive mounds of ice crystals would be the most uncomfortable experience for his species. He preferred sun and sand and the gravity of his home planet.<p>

All he could do was monitor Bashir's location and wait for him to contact him. He ordered tea from the replicator and sat down with a thoughtful expression. He wondered how the doctor's genetic enhancements allowed him to tolerate the cold. Was he more or less "tailored" to endure a broad range of different climates, or were the changes more mental than physical? If they overhauled his mental facilities, then they should have put the same consideration into his body. Humans always did these deeds by halves.

The doctor had been gone for a while now. He pondered over contacting him to find out if there was something amiss. He decided against it. If Julian ran into trouble he had time to press his badge and inform someone. It would no doubt be a long and chilly hike for him.

* * *

><p>Julian's limbs were numb. The long time in the cold was making his head swim and his vision blur. He blinked his swollen eyelids. Was the cold supposed to do this? He had never been this frigid before and he had only ever treated patients for mild hypothermia. The actual sensations were new to him and not something to be gleaned from a textbook. His skin would not stop <em>itching<em>. It was like he was covered in stinging bees. His heart rate was elevated as though he actually had venom in his bloodstream.

The scenery was nondescript, empty like a blank canvas. There were no plants or life forms. His hand hovered over his commbadge. He had only a few minutes before he reached the outside of the artificial anti-transfer blanket. His hand shook. He knew he should report his supposed difficulty, but what would it matter? Garak could meet him at the beam point, but the Cardassian would be out in the freezing cold for no purpose. He was not a physician and he could not stabilize-

The doctor stumbled and nearly fell. He straightened, clutching at his pounding heart. His BPM…too fast. Dizziness, itching, lethargy…

Julian kept trudging on with a touch of desperation. He had to reach the beam point. Could he be having an allergic reaction? It was a condition that suited the facts best. Experimentally, he paused just long enough to pull his sleeve up and expose his wrist.

* * *

><p>"Garak, beam me up on a complete decontamination cycle."<p>

Julian's voice was quiet and thready against the howling wind. The Cardassian frowned, walking over to the beaming platform to adjust the settings. His brow ridges were furrowed with bafflement.

"Are you afraid that you caught something in the settlement?"

"Just do it, please."

"Certainly."

Garak pulled down the lever that switched the settings over and beamed the doctor into the runabout. A precautionary decontamination wall rose up in place as soon as Julian materialized. The doctor had taken off his coat. He stood, clutching at the vicinity of his heart. His face was badly swollen and dotted with markings.

"Doctor!" The Cardassian touched the decontamination field. It weakened, but remained solid. A runabout alarm went off.

"Wait, Garak!" The doctor's voice was quiet and raspy.

After what felt like much longer than a few seconds, the cycle completed. As soon as the field dropped, Garak surged forward.

"I'm having an allergic reaction…anaphylaxis. I need Epinephrine. Get the med kit," Julian ordered as his legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed in a sitting position on the beaming platform.

Hands were pushing him, encouraging him to lie down. The doctor could not summon up the energy to warn his friend. He needed a medical kit now or it would not matter if he was lying down or not; he would lose consciousness. His vision was fading out, becoming obscured by grey.

He felt the gentle sting of a hypospray against his neck and a thick emergency blanket was tucked over him. The doctor's eyes were closing and he simply breathed in and out, trying to relax. He started shivering. The hand on his forehead made him flinch from the contact, but its comforting warmth was pure bliss. His reptilian friend's skin was always chilly so he must be frigid in comparison. He heard a rustling movement and then more blankets were placed over him. Julian was shivering violently.

The doctor heard Garak mutter something darkly about Dax. Julian was not yet aware enough to speak up in her defense and his brow furrowed with frustration. Almost absent-mindedly, Garak seemed to be stroking his tense brow with his thumb, tracing a path where Cardassian eye ridges would have been. The doctor was calmed by the gesture.

"G-rak," Julian mumbled.

"Give yourself time to recover."

He fell silent, shuddering.

They waited several minutes more while the doctor warmed up. In the meantime, the former spy checked his pulse, respiration, and the condition of the wheals on his face. The doctor was given an antihistamine to control his symptoms. The careful touches and litany of assurances issuing from Garak soothed the young human. He had never known such affection, even from his own parents. Eventually, Julian opened his eyes and was able to focus a clear gaze on his Cardassian mentor.

Garak had been crouched over him on the decking. The contents of a well-stocked med kit lay scattered across the floor beside him as if in a fit of impatience he had upended the kit in order to find equipment quickly. Bashir's recollection of events was disconnected. He must have blacked out for a moment. His body felt strained and weakened, but it was warmer and the hives were slowly receding.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better, but I would like to sit up now."

After a brief moment of consideration, Garak helped maneuver him into a sitting position. His body language practically radiated concern.

"We should get out of here. We have a time limit." The doctor was quick to disregard his malady and focus on his duty.

The Cardassian appeared torn. He could not leave Bashir unsupervised in this condition. "Do you think you can sit in a chair? I'll help you to the co-pilot's seat."

Bashir nodded his acquiescence. The doctor was helped to his feet and he was steered into the cockpit. After Garak settled him in the chair, he went to go retrieve the blankets. He wrapped the human up again.

"Thank you."

The tailor gave him a tilting nod in response and made preparations to move the runabout out of orbit. Julian's swollen hands hovered over the controls as if about to help him. Elim shot him a look that clearly conveyed that his assistance was unwanted. The doctor frowned, but did not protest. He shoved his hands back under the blankets.

"Preparing to leave orbit inside Cardassian space…"

Garak gave him a businesslike commentary of how he was piloting, informing him when they were going into warp and when they would meet the Cardassian border patrol. The doctor bore his friend's incessant protective attitude with grace. All was silent until Garak's calm mask slipped.

"It was that cursed coat," the tailor said with hint of a primal growl. "Not only was it a poor statement of fashion, but it could have killed you. Ragenese fur…"

"At least now we know what I'm allergic to," Julian stated casually as he checked on the swelling of his digits.

"The station is the nearest Federation outpost, otherwise I would take you to a Federation hospital."

Julian nodded. "That's fine."

"What isn't fine is your choice of winter wear. When we return, I'm creating a coat that you will try on before you go on planetary excursions."

"Garak, why are you so concerned?" The doctor's face was lined with confusion. "I'm stable."

Bashir waited for the Cardassian to elaborate. His temper was not usually so fiery unless there was a reason behind it. His ire could not all be directed at Dax.

"You wouldn't- oh, there's no purpose in revisiting past events. Don't your people state 'let bygones be bygones?'"

The doctor considered the words and what he was missing. "I wouldn't…what? I wouldn't wake up?"

The Cardassian swallowed. "Indeed, and it was impolite of you to be so thoroughly incapacitated when we needed to leave this sector. Both piloting and medical care are best done as separate activities while-"

Garak stopped speaking as warm mammalian hands closed over his own and lifted up two of his scaled fingers. Julian pressed the digits to his wrist. The steady jump of a pulse thrummed beneath the Cardassian's fingertips. The doctor smiled warmly at him.

"I'm still alive thanks to you. Despite unforeseen circumstances, the mission was a success."

"Hmmm." The tailor appeared as if he still had doubts, but he looked reassured by the steady pumping of blood in Julian's veins.

"You're so theatrical sometimes, doctor," he gently teased and disentangled their hands.

"I suppose you could say that I learned from the best."

Displaying a mischievous smirk, Garak played along. "No doubt you are referring to a certain tailor, but though quite suave and well-mannered, he is hardly theatrical."

"This tailor blew up his own shop to get a security officer's attention."

He beamed. "Charming fellow. I like him already."

Julian smiled back fondly. He wondered why he had hesitated to inform Garak that he had been in danger. The tailor obviously cared about him and he had been more than capable of acting quickly to save his life. It was clear now that Garak was a friend that could be called upon to assist him. The doctor would not be likely to hesitate in the future.

Their runabout traveled safely back to Deep Space Nine with an amused human and a relieved Cardassian on board.

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><p>The End<p> 


	7. A Mirror's Reflection

Aftermath of Crossover

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><p>"We've got ships from here to New Bajor out looking for you. Where have you been?" Sisko's voice was that of a disapproving parent and the kindness in his tone was what truly grounded Kira and Bashir in the knowledge that they had returned.<p>

"Through the looking glass, commander. It's good to be back."

Kira saw the doctor give a small pleased smile. Julian was covered from head to toe with soot and ore processing deluge and he reeked of metallic elements and sweat. It brought back many memories for the Major...

"Landing on platform C. We've been in- I'm not sure if you're going to believe this, commander- but we've been in a parallel universe. You'll want to call down a medical team to make sure we didn't bring anything unexpected back with us."

"They'll be on their way."

The Major glanced over at Julian, curious why he had not issued the precautionary measure himself. The doctor had his eyes closed, slouched in his seat.

"Julian." She shook his shoulder and he became awake and alert immediately. Kira relaxed when she saw him respond.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I just thought you might like to be awake when the medical team comes to examine us." She thought it was best to pretend that she was merely being impatient.

The doctor sighed and stood. Kira got up beside him with practiced grace in the flowing gown. The frills looked strange on her; she was hardly one to tote around her beauty and it just seemed wrong somehow, though Julian could not put his finger on the reason why. The Major was a keen observer and she had done him the favor of ignoring his sorry state so far.

As Julian rose up, he hissed. His body felt like one mass of strained muscle and every joint ached and throbbed. At least he was finally away from the Terrans with the dead eyes and the overseer… The doctor stopped himself from continuing on with those thoughts.

Kira pressed the button that opened the runabout hatchway and they both exited the craft and entered the chilly airlock. Julian followed her slowly while his adrenaline wore off and his muscles froze up again. Kira took her time walking through the airlock and to the entrance onto the docking ring, pausing frequently to let the officer catch up.

Shortly after they opened the airlock door, they were met by the medical team. They were given various antibiotics and Kira watched as Julian greeted the Starfleet and Bajoran team with warmth. They spoke over top of each other about possible viruses and diseases that they would have to vaccinate them for. Both of them were escorted to the infirmary with the usual amount of medical fuss.

Julian was jumpy. The changeling had not managed to break his spirit, but he had succeeded in giving him a dose of momentary fear whenever he was touched. No slaps rained down on him, nor whip strikes. He controlled his fear with an inner monologue of assurances and he shoved the memories back into an inaccessible corner of his brain.

They were taken into care. The Major was soon released and allowed a debriefing and she would begin working on her written report shortly. Julian was not so lucky and he had to be more thoroughly decontaminated and treated for abrasions and a torn muscle in his leg. He also had numerous contusions and a couple of minor sprains. After receiving a fresh uniform and some medicine he felt like a new man. His right hip throbbed from time to time, but given the chance it would knit back naturally and walking with a temporary minor limp was a small price to pay.

He left the infirmary off duty for the next 27 hours and he had been encouraged to catch up on his sleep before starting his reports. He went up to Sisko's office to complete his debriefing while the events were still fresh in his mind. He recalled everything with the emotional indifference suitable for a Starfleet officer giving a report. Sisko had ushered him in and sat while he listened, uttering only a simple, "You may begin your report."

Julian calmly explained their transference to the alternate universe through the wormhole and their arrival at the Alliance station. He described their separation, his work in ore processing, and his recapture after the first escape with the other Terran workers and Miles. He described Odo's death by his hands.

Julian left nothing out. He could tell that his commander was feeling a combination of sympathy and compassion and those observations shamed him. The doctor had survived and escaped relatively unscathed. Others had not been so lucky. He had directly murdered someone and therefore he should be dishonorably discharged from Starfleet. His mind told him that it had been self-defense and that Starfleet would not discipline him for doing his duty, but he remained prepared for the worst.

He relived the Intendant's death sentence. He recalled his own brash defiance and how Sisko and Kira stepped in and the Terrans had made their break for freedom. Julian's story ended succinctly and unimpassioned as though he had told Sisko that he had scones for breakfast. He advised his own dismissal from Starfleet for killing the changeling and then turned to leave.

The doors snapped shut.

Julian slowly faced his commanding officer with dread written all over his features that he could not school back anymore. Sisko was standing and his finger hovered over the controls on his desk. He eventually picked up the baseball from its stand.

"Not many could have endured those conditions and lived to tell the tale, doctor."

Bashir stared, heart in his throat at the thought of the information that Sisko could have uncovered about him in his absence. He had hid his genetic status so well and if that came to light too…

"For that alone I must commend you on your fortitude. You've behaved admirably."

Julian opened his mouth to refute the statement but the commander held up a finger.

"I'm going to be blunt with you, doctor. You will have to kill again sometime in your career and I'm certain that you know the statistics of the likelihood of that happening."

Julian swallowed.

"You'll never become used to the idea. The choice was a difficult one, but you made it to defend yourself and O'Brien like a loyal Starfleet officer. This event will be taken down in your record, but it will not change anything from Starfleet's perspective about your career."

The doctor wanted to say so many things about how Sisko and Starfleet were wrong and how he would never completely forgive himself for this…could not. None of the thoughts he could voice seemed respectful enough or non-combative. He would need to deal with this on his own.

"I- thank you, sir."

Bashir stared at him expectantly, waiting to be dismissed. He knew that Sisko might shout at him to get a genuine response of some kind. He was a firm believer of getting festering emotions out into the open, but Sisko must have seen the tiredness in his eyes. The commander nodded at him in dismissal. Julian acknowledged it and spun on his heel with a tight military turn. He left the office feeling lighter somehow. He saw Dax glance up from her console as he descended the stairs.

"Someone looks better."

Julian gave a hum. "I'll tell you all about it if you would care for a drink in Quark's."

The Trill looked apologetic. "I'm sorry Julian, but I still have the rest of my shift left. How about this evening?"

"I'm afraid it will have to be tomorrow evening. My shift starts early."

"I'll see you then." She flashed him a dazzling smile and the doctor nodded at her.

Bashir entered the lift and said calmly, "promenade."

The lift descended and he felt a mild twinge of claustrophobia in the small enclosed space. The lifts had been off limits to the Terran workers and any time he had been on one heralded his descent into ore processing or the chilling presence of the Intendant and her henchmen. He gave a minute shudder.

When he was let out, he all but sprinted to Quark's where there was light and music and sound. He thought what better method to recover from his ordeal than to attempt to enjoy himself again. He ordered a synthale from Quark and then took a seat by the bar. It was busy this afternoon. Julian sat quietly nursing his drink and wishing that he had invited the Chief to join him. He felt more solitary than ever even while surrounded by drinking and talking customers. Quark had briefly tried to engage him in a conversation but once he had been repeatedly rebuffed he left Julian to himself.

As if fate had intervened, he saw a familiar figure approaching the bar. He was wearing a rich red tunic that gave his scales and ridges a ghostly pallor. Julian slouched over his cup, making his body seem as small as possible.

_Why did he always have to catch him at his worst? In front of Jadzia or Miles he didn't mind so much, but Garak repeatedly found him in this…unflattering position. _

"Doctor, I almost didn't see you there."

Grimacing, Julian set down his glass of synthale and plastered on a fake smile.

"Garak, I'm afraid I was just leaving. It's been a long day."

The tailor stepped towards him, smiling. "Oh, but I've had rather a long day too. You will never believe the Bolian that came in this morning- and that Betazoid's wedding dress!" The Cardassian clucked his tongue as though he had undergone a trying ordeal. "Would you grant me a few minutes of your company? I might be able to lift your spirits with the news of the young beautiful Ensign that arrived this afternoon. She was a charming creature, though I'm afraid that Lieutenant Dax might compete…My dear doctor, is there something the matter?"

The Cardassian squinted at him in the low lighting of the bar. The scales on his neck rippled as he cocked his head to the side with puzzlement.

"I'm…It's complicated and I just had my debriefing. If you don't mind, Garak, I think I need-"

Julian cut himself off as he saw another person enter the bar. Constable Odo strode over to Quark, muttering furiously about stolen Dilithium crystals. Julian froze, watching the heated exchange. Odo's voice was quiet and threatening to the point where the doctor momentarily feared for Quark's safety.

This was not the other Odo, he reminded himself. He had made certain that Odo never harmed anyone again. Swallowing, Julian made to walk out of the bar and he found Garak almost plastered to his side.

"I think you might have the right idea about seeking some peace and quiet. Would you care for tea at the Celestial Café? The Bajoran who runs it is a special customer of mine and I'm afraid that her own business has not been booming of late."

They had reached the promenade and the human was uneasy with the Cardassian's determination to keep him company while he was in this state. He sighed.

Garak's expression held sympathy and he suddenly extended his arm. He made to place his hand on Julian's bicep in what was meant to be a placating gesture. Reflexes still fresh from the mistreatment at the ore processing plant, the doctor flinched away.

The Cardassian let his arm drop to his side. "Doctor, I haven't been entirely truthful with you. I am aware of your trip into the alternate universe, indeed, the entire station is abuzz with it."

"What?!"

His voice was louder than he intended.

"First, let's find a seat somewhere more private. The Café has ample seating and I think you might need to rest that injury of yours."

Garak had noticed his limp. The doctor's leg was stiffening up again and his hip throbbed. Sitting down sounded pleasant and despite his initial discomfort, the Cardassian's presence had a way of soothing him.

The tailor let him lead the way to the Celestial Plaza. There were benches dotted here and there and Bashir sank onto one of the dark blue cushions. It was then that he remembered that he needed to place an order for his beverage at the counter but he was too tired to move. He watched Garak choose from the limited menu and bring back two cups of Celestial tea.

The tea would taste bitter after the synthale he consumed, but he was grateful for the free drink after fasting for so long.

"Thank you."

The Cardassian smiled and seated himself opposite of him.

"So, the whole station knows now?"

He could not honestly say that he was surprised. News traveled fast and station logs were easily accessible given the right security clearance codes.

"Yes, but I'm sure that many of the details have been fabricated. There is talk that you were put in a labor camp while Major Kira was forced into servitude by her alternate self."

Bashir shrugged. "That was more or less what happened but Kira wasn't made into a servant. She was meant to be…courted."

"Interesting. Tell me, was I present?"

"Yes, you were a military officer in charge of interrogation."

Bashir saw his friend wince.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-"

Garak halted his apology. "It's quite all right. It's rumored that you had to take some drastic measures to ensure your safe return. I'm glad that you chose to do so."

_His friend was glad that he had killed someone? He had probably winced earlier from the thought that his mirror universe counterpart still had ties to Cardassia that he lacked._

"I shouldn't have pulled the trigger…"

"Your regret of your actions is misplaced, doctor. I heard that you saved countless others from certain death. That changeling had the wrong alliances and he was a danger to the Alpha Quadrant."

"It was still murder."

His voice had risen again and he was startled when Garak placed his hand over his wrist in an effort to bring him back to himself.

"It was defense of you and your comrade. You were loyal to him, which is not cowardly or cold-blooded or any of those possible recriminations running around in your head. You did your duty."

Julian did not respond. He was still taken aback by the Cardassian's defense of his actions that appealed to his morals. The doctor had learned long ago that Cardassians did not regard death in the same manner of humans, Ferengi, or Vulcans. When death came, it was always an expected part of serving the state and killing was justified by the same set of rules. The tailor was using his knowledge of human culture and his own familiarity with Bashir's line of thinking to comfort him.

Julian swallowed. "Thank you, Garak."

"I'm glad that my insight could assist with your redemption. Is the tea to your satisfaction?"

The doctor realized that he had ignored his cup thus far and sought to remedy the situation. At first, he did not taste anything. It was just hot liquid sliding down his throat from the miniature tea cup. He began to taste the strong brew and the milk and sugar with the herbal flavor. It slowly warmed him from the inside out.

Drinking tea with Garak's soothing banter in the background, he felt his tension beginning to dissolve. Though he had changed and he would continue changing from the actions he took, at least he had somewhere he could return to while he came to terms with it. He was home and for the first time since he had returned, he truly believed it.

* * *

><p>The End<p>

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><p>AN: Thanks for the reviews Maggie Ernst and Tamuril2.


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